


Trade Off

by golfdadscoups



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:55:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24998674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/golfdadscoups/pseuds/golfdadscoups
Summary: Jeonghan doesn't have room for love or anything of the sort. So when Seungcheol shows up at his door in the same rags Jeonghan had last seen him in, Jeonghan lets him in without a question.
Relationships: Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Yoon Jeonghan
Comments: 25
Kudos: 67





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi this is a reupload. i tweaked it a little here and there. happy reading !! twt/cc: golfdadscoups

It's not a matter of questions, there's nothing left to be asked, let alone thought of. We’re not children, we’re a bunch of soldiers and Gods punishing us for asking too many questions, Mingyu always said.

Don't ask questions, Jeonghan learned. Questions kill, questions bring up the answers and nobody wants to talk about the answers. Questions bring up the ghosts you want to forget. Nothing left to be remembered, let alone thought of. Only a face exploding next to Jeonghan’s head, long nights staring at the black sky as gunshots went off in the distance, crawling and a snipe right in the forehead, a stab in the chest, a twist, and a scream maybe. Owners unknown. Jeonghan doesn't remember, and when anyone asks he says he doesn't know. Even when he's staring up at the sky now and it's nosy stars ask him, Jeonghan hollers back that he doesn't know till there's nothing left to be asked.

So when Seungcheol shows up at his door, in the same rags Jeonghan had last seen him in, Jeonghan lets him in without a question. 

“You’re looking good.” He notes.

“I look good as long as I feel bad.” Seungcheol runs his hand through his hair. “Trade off.”

“Trade off my ass. You show up like this without even letting me know you're alive.” Jeonghan says in mock hurt. “That's no trade off.”

Seungcheol breaks into a friendly smile but with it there's uncomfortable tension in the air. Jeonghan smiles back, there's always tension around him. He drowns it out with the feeling of familiarity that comes with being in Seungcheol's presence.

He's wearing an ugly white T-shirt, brown in places where the dirt hit him, cargo pants are loose and worn, there's a fresh scar across his neck, fresh enough to look like it would open and start bleeding if Seungcheol turned his head the wrong way. He's looking young as ever. Eyes are bright as ever.

“You’ve been working?” Jeonghan goes into the kitchen, crouching down and pulling a pot out of the cabinet.

“Some kind of work.” Seungcheol shrugs leaning against the counter as Jeonghan sets some water to boil.

They smile at each other like lovebirds till Seungcheol's next question.

“How is she?”

Jeonghan pulls out a jar of instant coffee. “Don't know.”

“Ran off.” Seungcheol's got answers. 

Jeonghan pretends he didn't hear that. Not a thing left to remember, not even any lovers that might have been. Ghosts. All of them.

“You don't miss her, do you?” Seungcheol asks. He's the only ghost Jeonghan answers to.

Theyre looking at each other soft. 

“Ran off with a man from Busan that she invited to live with her after my drafting. She didn’t even have the mercy to tell me.”

“You don't miss her, do you?” He asks again.

“Not her, but I'm missing someone.”

“Who are you talking to?” They both turn at the sound of the voice.

It's Seungkwan standing in his lanky teenage glory, baby fat still stuck to his cheeks.

“She left you something, though.” Seungcheol mumbles, eyes studying Seungkwan the way they study everyone.

“Seungkwan.” Jeonghan gestures to him. “And two more. They're probably still asleep upstairs.” Jeonghan shrugs, dropping the mix into the water. The water surges up and pools out, changing color.

“How old are you, son?” Seungcheol asks Seungkwan.

“Almost 17.” Seungkwan’s got eyes that don't belong to Jeonghan.

“Work?”

“Not this time of year, sir.” Seungkwan shrugs and goes to the pantry, coming back with a slice of bread.

“You'll stay for dinner?” Jeonghan doesn't sound hopeful, turning to Seungcheol.

“I've barely had breakfast, Jeonghan.” Seungcheol laughs pretty. Jeonghans breath hitches.

“Who’re you though, sir?” Seungkwan asks again and the way Seungcheol's face falls tells Jeonghan he’s got an answer but can't say it.

“An old friend.” Jeonghan pipes up. 

Seungcheol nods in relieved agreement.

“You never talk about any friends.” Seungkwan raises an eyebrow.

“Well I've got some.” Jeonghan shoots back. They bicker the most out of all of Jeonghan’s kids. If you can call them that. “Eat.”

Seungkwan sheepishly smirks and goes to sit at the table.

“You got anyone?” Jeonghan asks Seungcheol gently. “Family or anything?”

“I’ve got some unfinished business.” Seungcheol chortles, scratches the scar on his neck and Jeonghan hisses like it hurt him and yanks Seungcheol's hand away.

They stay frozen for a second like that. Jeonghan with his teeth gritted, eyes still on the scar that looks ready to decapitate Seungcheol, fingers locked around Seungcheol's wrist like they're trying to crush his bones. There's a story behind that scar that the both of them don't remember. Romantic.

A blank moment and Jeonghan lets go of Seungcheol's wrist. Seungcheol's expression is painfully understanding.

“Ghosts?”

Jeonghan clears his throat and nods. It's in the berries that grow small and green, flowers that never bloom, in the mirror when Jeonghan stares and doesn't see himself, in that tombstone that only has a “Rest” engraved on it because Jeonghan couldn't afford the whole phrase, new plates that Jeonghan buys but they end up coming out cracked and then they magically repair when Jeonghan takes them to be returned, things flying off shelves out of nowhere, doors left unlocked, the kids complaining how tired they are when they've barely moved, it's everywhere. They're everywhere, forcing Jeonghan to answer. Now it's the tension outweighing the familiarity. Jeonghan lets it quiver in his veins. Trade off.

“How long has it been?” He whispers more to himself than to Seungcheol as he stares at the boiling coffee.

“14 years.” Seungcheol answers. “And I swear I've been finishing business every single day.”

“So you're here?” Jeonghan finally turns the stove off and moves to get some mugs but almost bumps into Seungcheol. “What business do I owe?”

Seungcheol moves aside and breaks into a sweet smile, like sugar. Jeonghan opens the cabinet on his right and takes out 3 mugs, basking in Seungcheol's sugar because oh how he's missed it. Once he gets coffee in all three mugs, Seungcheol takes two, Jeonghan takes his own.

“You got any ghosts in this house, Seungkwan?” Seungcheol asks lightly, setting Seungkwans mug in front of him.

“Other than you?” Seungkwan looks up.

Jeonghan slaps the back of Seungkwans head and looks at Seungcheol ready to apologize on his behalf, but stops.

The image is gorgeous. Round cheeked, shaggy haired Seungkwan sipping his coffee with red lips, skinny fingers hugging the warmth of the cup, Seungcheol still smiling that sugar smile that Jeonghan hasn't seen on another soul, his one hand holds his coffee, his other is rested casually on the back of Seungkwan’s chair, that warm morning glow shining through the windows. Blinding. But Jeonghan doesn't need to see.

Jeonghans eyes then flit across the scar on Seungcheol's neck and suddenly he's in the muddy dark and everything sounds like fireworks. He's seeing Mingyu screaming at him to _run they're coming after you! He's got a gun, he's gonna shoot he's gonna shoot he's gonna shoot, Jeonghan run!_ And Jeonghan put foot in front of foot, knobby knees, heart beating in his ears because _run this could be it, you wouldn't live to see the next sunrise you've got a whip on your back and you better run_ , Wonwoo’s half bloody half dead and Jeonghan doesn't know which one is worse and _you better run faster than those legs can take you or you’ll never see-_

“Jeonghan?” Seungkwan is the only one out of the three kids who calls him by his name.

The sound is so foreign coming off his lips. Not an anxious shriek, not a roar of vengeance, not a dying last word, just a son who's not really a son asking why Jeonghan’s standing there like a mute. There's a ringing in Jeonghan’s ears.

“I said you better bring the wash in or else it’ll get caught in the rain.” Seungkwan’s looking at him with a dead stare that Jeonghan seen on too many faces.

He was nicer when he was younger. Before all those ghosts started haunting him.

Jeonghan looks out the window. It was sunny just a second ago, but it's all clouds and dark now.

Jeonghan looks down at his own hands, clutching the mug like his life depends on it, his shaking makes ripples in the dark liquid. Finally he looks up at Seungcheol who's still smiling that sugar smile. Jeonghan’s shoulders ease with release but stay up with anxiety.

“You're right, Seungkwan.” He sets his mug down and grins at Seungcheol. “You’ll come?”

Seungcheol takes a sip of his coffee and sets his cup down too. “I don't see why not.”

~

The sky is dark when Jeonghan and Seungcheol step outside with their basket and bucket, going to the line.

“Clothes are still wet.” Jeonghan tsks, feeling a yellow shirt too small to fit anyone. He yanks it off the line, dropping it in his basket.

“So Seungkwan isn't yours, is he?” Seungcheol asks, collecting the clothespins and setting them in the bucket.

“None of them are.” Jeonghan answers blankly, wondering how pitiful he must look in Seungcheol's eyes. 

Jeonghan’s the only one who came out of the war unscathed, on the surface at least, and he's wasting his life away looking after children that aren't even half his.

“Real noble of you, Jeonghan.” Seungcheol knows what kind of blow that must be to Jeonghan’s pride.

“I can't just chuck em out on the streets.”

“You don't love them?”

“Would you?” Jeonghan shrugs. “I don't have room for that kind of nonsense in my life. I've got room for bed time stories and room for tending to school fight bruises, no room for love.”

“You've got room for me.”

“I'll always have room for you.” Jeonghan’s cheeks grow red. Seungcheol's grinning cockily.

Jeonghan’s proud. He'd never admit love for anyone in front of anyone. Only Seungcheol. He had always been the exception.

“You like the kids, at least?”

“Somewhere between ‘like’ and ‘love’.” Jeonghan hopes Seungcheol won't sneer at his heartlessness.

“Who stayed with them after the Busan couple left and before you got back?” But Seungcheol's voice is merely inquiring.

“Jisoo.” Jeonghan pulls off a pair of briefs. “Didn't have the heart to tell me...”

Seungcheol takes the pins and drops them in his bucket. “Heard from him since?”

“Long dead.” Jeonghan’s voice cracks.

Seungcheol's stunned into silence. Jeonghan looks at him and clears his throat.

“How?” Seungcheol asks quietly, folding his arms. “Hard?”

“Harder than anyone else. There was shellings in his hometown.” Jeonghan’s arms are dead by his sides, it's the first time he's talked about it since finding out himself. “He went to check on his bakery after the first wave and the second wave came down while he was still outside. People say one landed right on him.”

Seungcheol's eyebrows knit together. He reaches one hand out and softly touches Jeonghan’s cheek. It burns like fire but Jeonghan leans into it, closing his eyes.

“Is that bakery still open?” Seungcheol steps closer and Jeonghan opens his eyes.

“I don't know.”

And they kiss like tamarind. Sweet and bitter. But oh how Jeonghans missed it. He knows he shouldn't. Seungcheol's a ghost from the past and Jeonghan’s been running from ghosts all his life. But he can't help it, he's imagining sunlight on his cheek. Maybe it's the fire in Seungcheol's fingertips. They separate and Jeonghan stares at Seungcheol's scar. The tension melts away like butter in a hot pan but the heat from the pan is still there. Trade off.

“You have any ghosts?” He asks softly.

Seungcheol's got his hands on Jeonghans back, lazily undoing button after button of his nightshirt. “I've got myself and that's about it. I've walked this entire country twice, haven't met another ghost as pitiful.”

“Walk?” Jeonghan feels sunlight on his bare back but the sky is as cloudy as ever. 

Devil's tricks.

“Run.” Seungcheol's fingers slowly feel the tiny scars on Jeonghan’s back, almost like he's trying to make sure they're there and not imagined. “Throwing off any ghosts that try to come after me.”

Jeonghan sighs and leans his head on Seungcheol’s shoulder, feeling that fire touch every single blistering welt on his back, feeling that shallow rise and fall of Seungcheol's chest under his hands, feeling like it's only been a day because even though the scars on his back are old, the ones in him are fresh as ever, Seungcheol's cutting them open again and Jeonghan is letting him even when he shouldn't.

“You've got a tree on your back.” Seungcheol comments.

“If I've got a tree, you’ve got a forest.”

Seungcheol looks at Jeonghan once, lips parted pretty, eyes lidded, scar still threatening to burst open. Jeonghans got answers. He wraps his arms around Seungcheol's neck, pretending he doesn't notice the scrapping of bloody skin against his arms and they kiss again. Hard.

Seungcheol's hands are still roaming, still climbing tree branches. The kiss feels more relieved than romantic, more like something you've been wanting to do for a while and now you're finally doing it. The anxiety of it is making a hole in your stomach because you shouldn't fall in love with a war ghost again but there's adrenaline rushing up your throat, faster than legs can carry.

Seungcheol's legs aren't as strong as they were, can't carry like they used to. So Jeonghan leans too forward and they both just collapse into the muddy grass holding each other like kids. The moisture is too familiar on Jeonghan’s knees and he can feel ghosts swarming around him, taking him back to that place. So he kisses even harder, finding refuge in Seungcheol even though Seungcheol is the last person who could provide Jeonghan with any kind of safety.

They separate with noses brushing like feathers. Seungcheol's got both his arms wrapped around Jeonghan’s lower back, smiling sugar.

“No ghosts while I'm around, understand?” Seungcheol mumbles.

“Trade off.” Jeonghan slaps his face lightly. “You're a parasite looking to feed off me.”

Seungcheol smooches Jeonghan’s cheek with a loud _muah!_ “And you're letting me stay.”

“And I'm letting you stay.” Jeonghan breaks into a small giggle.

They were always like that, kissing and making love in private, flirting so subtly in public that you'd have to peel to find it. They were each other's secret because love isn't something you want to discover in war. Love is too unreliable in war. Love is a liar. But Jeonghan and Seungcheol asked questions and they got answers for each other. No war could stop them. Not then, not now. But they're doomed, the both of them because ghosts aren’t meant to fall in love, hard or soft.

It's Vernon that sneaks up on them the second time. With the timid gait of a middle child in his night suit, wearing slippers that are too big on his feet.

“Appa, you're kissing strangers in the mud?” He's got that playful middle child love too.

Jeonghan laughs loud and embarrassed. Seungcheol pulls his arms away and straightens up, helping Jeonghan up too.

“Who’re you?” Vernon eyes him with a cute pout.

“An old friend.” Jeonghan smiles as Seungcheol does up his buttons again.

“Chans been crying for you.” Vernon says.

“Oh, has he?” Jeonghan frowns. “I’ve got some candy in my back drawer. Three of you can split ‘em. That might hold him off till I'm done here.”

“Done kissing your boyfriend?” Vernon mumbles but runs off before Jeonghan can swat him.

“He doesn't look like Seungkwan. He's got a different walk.” Seungcheol says watching Vernons figure go farther away. “Listens to ragtime?”

“He's a stray I picked up on the way home one day. And yeah, can't get enough of it.”

Seungcheol looks at him run into the house with a fond smile. “You've got all sorts of people living under your roof, Jeonghan.”

“Two bastards, one stray, one war prisoner.” Jeonghan eyes Seungcheol playfully. “And ghosts. Lots of ghosts.”

“Do they bother you?”

“I don't know.”

~

The day lapses into Jeonghan’s usual morning as Vernon and Seungkwan rush about preparing themselves for school, Chan plays with his toy gun, Jeonghan avoids looking at it, Seungcheol sits at the table, hashes and kimchi forgotten in front of him as he watches the scene unfold with a bewildered smile.

Jeonghan shoves brown paper bags and pencils into the two older children's hands, patting their bags hollering at them to study hard and _Vernon don't let that kid from the next block bully you into giving your homework to him_ and _Seungwkan please eat the lunch I made for you, don't be wasting money and buying I don't care if all your friends buy._

Chan tumbles between Jeonghan’s feet yelling about how he absolutely needs Vernon to bring him some glue but refuses to state why. And then finally Vernon and Seungkwan head out for school, Chan stays home left to his own devices, distracted easily when Jeonghan flips the radio on for him and Seungcheol falls onto Jeonghan’s bed like he hasn't laid on one in years. He doesn't sleep though, just shallow breathing and staring at the ceiling like he's looking for something.

Jeonghan feels cold, wrapping his shawl around himself even though it's late spring and they stay like that forever. Or maybe for a minute. Time knows how to twist itself depending on the situation.

“I think about it a lot.” Seungcheol mumbles finally.

“What?” Jeonghan’s sitting by his feet. There's a lot to think about.

“That last day when they ambushed us by the border.” Seungcheol doesn't need to say the rest but he does. “When it was just the seven of us. That day we were supposed to go home.”

Jeonghan’s grip on his shawl tightens and his lips stay pressed in a line. The flowers on his window sill are dead. Seungcheol's talking about things he shouldn't talk about but Jeonghan doesn't have it in him to stop him.

“That day they almost got Jun and Minghao.” Seungcheol shifts so his hands fold over his stomach. “Right in the neck.”

Jeonghan winces and ghosts touch his bare feet. He stands up and folds his legs crisscross applesauce under him, plopping back down. 

“And they got Wonwoo by the arms. Three against one.” Seungcheol points up at the ceiling, mimicking the silhouette of a gun with his fingers. “Execution style.”

Jeonghan stares at the gun for what seems like forever. Or maybe a minute. They stay quiet till Seungcheol's arm shakes from staying up like that.

“Bang.” Jeonghan finally finds the guts to say it.

And silence forever. Or maybe a minute. Jeonghan stares at the carpet till he hears Seungcheol's light snoring behind him. He turns around and looks at Seungcheol's long lashes, watching yellow shadows cast over his skin from the dusty ceiling light. He's pretty, so pretty. Jeonghan had always thought he had the prettiest eyes. They were sad and big and always talking. Even when Seungcheol was as silent as the dead, his eyes were talking. Telling Jeonghan everything he wanted to know.

Seungcheol shifts, mumbling something under his breath. Jeonghan reaches forward and brushes his hair out of his eyes. He’s got wrinkles peppering his face ever so lightly but his skin is as young as ever, his neck isn't as thick as it used to be, the scar makes it look even thinner, his arms are skinnier too.

“We’re getting old.” Jeonghan mutters.

Seungcheol turns on his side as the sheets gather and bunch under him, and Jeonghan wonders where Seungcheol came from. He's not used to this. He's not used to seeing Seungcheol asleep peacefully on a bed like this. Jeonghan and his ghosts only know the Seungcheol that would bark orders at them, the Seungcheol that never really slept and was always shakily drinking _something_ while everyone got their wits ready for the attacks tomorrow.

Seungcheol's pretty expression then twists into one of pain and Jeonghan already knows it's a nightmare. He pounds his fist on the mattress, gritting his teeth, breathing hard, and Jeonghan doesn't have it in him to do anything about it. Seungcheol thrashes, mumbling “don't” under his breath and then those “don’ts” slowly turn into cries and he jolts up clutching his head and screaming the terror away.

He's gasping so hard, sputtering, whimpering pathetically. Jeonghan lets it happen. Slowly, his gasping dissolves into soft breathing and he clears his throat. They meet eyes and Jeonghan sees _that_ Seungcheol that he knew at the barracks.

“You're alright, baby.” He whispers comfortingly.

“I can never get any sleep, Jeonghan.” Seungcheol replies. “I always have to wake myself up before the dreams get too bad, you know?”

“What was this one?”

“Torture.”

Jeonghan swallows that lump in his throat. “The electricity?”

“If you've got a tree, I've got a forest.”

“Trade off. I've got cold water up my nostrils. I don't know which one is worse.”

“Worse was that I didn't know where you were when it was all happening.”

“Why?” Jeonghan knows he shouldn't ask questions.

“I don't know.”

Jeonghan stands up. He can't hear that kind of talk. He might have room for Seungcheol but he doesn't have room for love. Never will.

“I'll get started on lunch.” He’ll give Seungcheol hospitality and he’ll give him kisses only because he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he didn't.

“Need help?”

“Nah, you rest. You've been finishing business.” Jeonghan teases, slipping his slippers on.

Seungcheol doesn't retort.

~

Chan takes a liking to him like he's known Seungcheol for years. Following him around like a little duck, sitting by his boots in the living room, asking him all sorts of questions he probably never even thought about asking Jeonghan.

“You come from afar?”

“Sure did.”

“Pretty far?”

“Pretty far.” And then Seungcheol smiles that sugar smile that Jeonghan thought was only reserved for him.

“Do you like Appa?”

“Some type of way.” Seungcheol punches Jeonghan’s shoulder playfully. “Do you like your Appa?”

“He's okay, I guess.” Chan shrugs mischievously. “I like you.”

At this, Seungcheol chortles loud and proud. “Thank you!”

“You know how to fix things?” 

Chan’s eyes are wide and inquiring as he watches Seungcheol repair one of the broken cabinets in the kitchen. “Big things?”

“I do.”

“Appa doesn't fix like that. He sews sometimes though.”

“I know how to fix cabinets.” Jeonghan retorts defensively but he can't find it in him to get mad. 

The image of Chan looking up at Seungcheol like that is sweeter than Seungcheol's smile. Besides, the cabinets break on their own, there's no point in Jeonghan trying to fix them over and over.

“He's the one, Appa.” Chan finally decides during lunch, sitting in Seungcheol's lap like it’s a throne.

“Is he?” Jeonghan quirks an eyebrow, pretending he's jealous.

“Yup.” Chan nods and graciously takes the spoonful of rice Seungcheol feeds him.

“I think you're gonna have to stick around for a while, Seungcheol.” Jeonghan cups his cheek in his palm, resting his elbow on the table. “Chan’s got a hold on you.”

“Yeah? I don't mind that.” Seungcheol ruffles Chan’s hair and grins at Jeonghan.

“Yeah. Stay for a while so you can fix up all the broken things in our house.” Chan looks at him and nods eagerly.

Jeonghan goes back to eating his rice quietly at that. You can't fix something that's broken when it’ll just fall apart the next day. No point in saying that to a 4 year old but Seungcheol understands his silence.

“I'll fix whatever you need me to fix, Chan.” He's talking to more Jeonghan.

After lunch, Seungcheol takes Chan outside for a game of catch. Jeonghan sinks into the sofa for a nice nap, thinking that keeping Seungcheol around for a while won't hurt at all. He's just another ghost to add to the collection, isn't he? And Jeonghan can handle ghosts, no doubt about that.

He traces his index finger on the leather lining of the sofa, pretending it’s Seungcheol's hand, his calloused hand that would hold Jeonghans own tight when they kissed, it would run up and down his arms, making him shiver, his hand that held him tight, hard, his shaking hand that's frantically trying to load his gun because enemy fire is raining down on them like actual rain and parts of his hair has singed clean off. He looks goofy, Jeonghan wants to say, he looks silly, Jeonghan wants to laugh, but then a bullet catches the side of his thigh and Jeonghan shrieks collapsing to his knees.

“Get up, get up!” Mingyu is yanking him upright by the arm but he himself is bleeding like he's got no skin and everything is too loud.

A shot goes off right by his ear and Jeonghan jolts, robotically loading his gun and firing back but his rifle isn't working, it's jammed-

“It's jammed!” He screams to whoever will listen.

Then he's standing, hands tied behind his back, in front of a man he's never seen in his life. They've got Soonyoung and they've got his head wrapped in a rag and they're dumping bucketfuls of water on him while he's tied to a chair, and Seokmin’s hiding his sniffles next to Jeonghan because he's got his hands tied behind his back too and he's next. But all Jeonghan can think is _what did they do to Seungcheol?_ Selfish as it must sound.

Soonyoung starts screaming at the top of his lungs but he gets drowned out by that ugly water. The interrogators are asking him questions and Soonyoung’s admitting to anything at this point but Jeonghan can't feel any kind of emotions, he's only thinking where is Seungcheol? because he hasn't seen him in two days since the ambush at the border and what if they got him? What if they already waterboarded him to death? Jeonghan’s knees buckle but the guys standing behind him hold him up strong and drag him to the chair while Soonyoung writhes on the floor beside it. The interrogators decide to spare Seokmin because he's young. Then what does that make Jeonghan?

It's dark and it's wet and then he’s sputtering, heaving. Jeonghan sits up, clutching himself, staring at his thighs, convincing himself he's safe. Seungcheol's standing over him, an understanding expression decorating his face. He kneels by Jeonghan and gently strokes his cheek but his touch feels like nothing.

Jeonghan gasps as he looks at red trickle down Seungcheol’s throat from his scar like a ribbon. It soaks his shirt, red against white looking pretty. Everything Seungcheol does is pretty, even when he's bleeding like he's dead. But Jeonghan can't focus on that, he's choking on his spit as the color from Seungcheol's face drains rapidly but he's still calmly pressing his palm against Jeonghan’s cheek. His eyes are hollow and sad, bloodshot like he's been crying for hours.

“S-Seungc-” Jeonghan fights to get his words out, his eyes pool with tears and he can only pray that this is part of that damned dream.

He reaches out to touch the thick stream of blood running down Seungcheol's neck just to make sure it is part of the dream and shrieks as he feels the wetness on his fingertips.

Then Seungcheol grabs his hand and Jeonghan screams louder.

“Jeonghan, what the hell are you doing?!” Seungcheol barks.

Jeonghan blinks. Once. Twice. Three times. Seungcheol's teeth are gritted and his eyebrows scrunched. His grip on Jeonghan’s hand loosens and he brushes Jeonghan’s sweaty hair out of his face.

“W-wha…” Jeonghan can't swallow that lump in his throat.

“What are you doing?” Seungcheol asks more calmly, concerned all the same.

He's not bleeding, never was, but Jeonghan still can't find his voice.

Seungcheol gets up and sits behind Jeonghan wordlessly, massaging the tension out of his shoulders, breathing the life back into him. His hands feel foreign, they feel like those same hands that were holding Jeonghan down while he drowned but Jeonghan gives into him, closing his eyes and trying to breathe through the suffocation.

“A dream?”

“Y-yeah.”

Seungcheol kisses his neck. Jeonghan leans back into Seungcheol's lap, still heaving hard. Seungcheol folds his arms over Jeonghan’s stomach. After a while, Jeonghan can finally breathe. 

“Do they come to you in pieces?”

“Fragments. The scary fragments.” Jeonghan pats the sweat on his forehead with his wrist. “How long was I out?”

“I don't know. How long did it feel?”

“Days and minutes the same.”

“Trade off.” Seungcheol mumbles into Jeonghan’s hair.

They're deaf for a while. Letting those ghosts do their magic, letting them plug up their ears with who knows what. Jeonghan sinks into Seungcheol's chest, finding a moment of peace amidst the screaming. He decides not to tell Seungcheol what he saw in the dream.

“All those years turned you cold, Jeonghan.” Seungcheol pipes up.

“Cold?”

“Blind. You can't see any color, can you?”

“I can see you.” There's nothing else he needs to see. “You're trying to act like you didn't get a nightmare just this morning?”

“I get them but I don't let them last too long. You said days.” Seungcheol tuts. “Fix that.”

“See, I'm not like you.” Jeonghan retorts, half angry, half joking. “I don't fix like that.”

“Chan was real impressed, wasn't he?” Seungcheol chuckles, tracing Jeonghan’s collarbone. “You ever pulled a screwdriver out in front of him?”

“Once when I was trying to open a tin of beans and the can opener was jammed.” Jeonghan’s voice wavers at “jammed”.

Seungcheol laughs loud and big, his chest shakes against Jeonghan’s back and it's pretty. Jeonghan doesn't have to see it but he can almost imagine the way Seungcheol's eyes crinkle into little crescents and his mouth opens gummy and carefree. It's so pretty. Even when his face was caked with mud and tears it looked pretty, even when they were both dead or dying, he was so pretty.

They hear the door open but don't make a move, wanting to stay in each other like this as long as possible to make up for all the times they couldn't.

“Appa are you sure he's just a friend?” Then Vernons standing there with his bag slung over his shoulder.

“Oh baby, I didn't hear you come in.” Jeonghan lies and sits up as Seungcheol removes his arms from Jeonghan middle.

They eat dinner in Chan and Vernons banter. Seungkwan joins in with a snarky remark every now and then but for the most part, studies Seungcheol discreetly.

Jeonghan feels the potential to live happy in the scene in front of him, with a proper family but he's not sure he wants to go there. It's just been him and the kids for years and it's been just swell like that. Only a broken window when the ghosts get angry and an especially awful nightmare if Jeonghan goes too long without providing an answer.

The kids notice it but don't say it. They know if they do, Jeonghan will just say he doesn't know. But with Seungcheol here, he's answering questions he's never answered, felt life in the places where he thought everything was dead, even the kids are different, more lively, like Seungcheols out of the blue presence healed them all of a disease they didn't know they had even though it's only been a day. Jeonghan’s flowers on the window sill, although still wilted, are slowly returning to a normal green. He checked them twice just to make sure it wasn't any Devils tricks. But. But, but, but, but...

What does it all mean? Jeonghan stays silent because he doesn't know and because Seungcheol's not the one asking. He feels Seungcheol's glance and keeps his eyes on his dinner. God’s punishing him for not answering any questions by sending him Seungcheol and his big eyes. Mingyu would've said something like that. Jeonghan’s seen enough punishment in his life, this is more of a blessing.

Seungkwan and Vernon’s heated debate about what flavor of taffy is superior is interrupted by Seungcheol's claps. “Oi oi, listen up.”

Chan stops and looks at Seungcheol attentively. Vernon bites back his “strawberry tastes better and it's healthier!” and Seungkwan stops his eating too. Jeonghan keeps his head down, pushing his rice around his plate with his spoon, like the answers to his question are swimming somewhere in the curry.

“Carnivals in town tomorrow.” There's a gleeful grin in Seungcheol's voice. “How about I take you all?”

“Oh, how about it Appa?” Vernon turns to Jeonghan. “I've always wanted to go to a carnival.”

Jeonghan looks up timidly, tugging at his earlobe. “Oh um...I don't know..”

“It’ll be a nice excuse to skip school. And we’ll get to know your old friend better.” Seungkwan flashes a smile so genuine, Jeonghan can't believe it's real. 

Seungkwan’s always been able to twist the situation into getting what he wants. Must’ve learned it from Jeonghan. 

“Oh come on, Appa!” Chan bangs his tiny fists on the table. “We gotta!”

Jeonghan looks at Chan’s red determined young cheeks and he can't say no. He’d never admit it as a parent but Chan is his favorite.

“Oh, why not?” He leans back in happy defeat.

Chan claps like a seal, wiggling in his seat next to Seungcheol. Seungkwan and Vernon high five, chattering excitedly about what games and stalls to see tomorrow. Jeonghan finishes his dinner for the first time since he was discharged.


	2. Chapter 2

Jeonghan wakes up late the next day and checks his flowers on the windowsill. They're budding and baby pink. An uncomfortable knot twists in Jeonghans stomach and he grimaces before going to the bathroom to shave. He won't make much of it. Seungcheol's here and he's fixing cabinets, that's all.

He steps out of the bathroom and sees Seungcheol sleeping prettily on the bed. His scar looks fainter, not as scary maroon as it had been yesterday.

Jeonghan shrugs and goes to his closet, wearing that one nice shirt he owns with some brown trousers. He then goes into the kids room upon hearing murmurs of talk to find the boys are up already, jittery and excited that they don't have to go to school.

“Oh, morning Appa.” Vernon smiles at him, hair shaggy, night pants shaggy, bedding shaggy.

“You got your homework done?” Jeonghan asks all of them.

“Got enough done. I'm saving some for tonight.” Seungkwans already pulling his undershirt on.

Jeonghan gives him a look.

“It's math, you know I'm bad at math.” Seungkwan holds his hands up defensively. “You're no good either.”

“I'm good enough.” Jeonghan goes and hoists Chan into his arms who sleepily rests his head in the crook of Jeonghans neck. “I pay my bills.”

“Maybe your friend could help me out with my math.” Seungkwan does up his buttons with a sly grin.

Jeonghan tuts at him and rolls his eyes playfully as he strokes Chans hair, pretending his cheeks aren't cherry red. Vernon laughs and Seungkwan high fives him.

“Chan didn't get much sleep. Kept talking to Dino about what to do today.” Seungkwan juts his jaw at Chans stuffed dinosaur on his bed.

“Is that right, baby? You were telling Dino about the carnival?” Jeonghan tickles Chans middle.

Chan stirs, giggling. “Yeah.”

Jeonghan then dresses Chan in a pair of green overalls and forces Vernon out of his swing vest and into some real clothes.

“We’re going to a carnival, not a dance club. You're too young to go to a dance club, anyway.” He says sternly, brushing Chans hair back.

Vernon pouts back and folds his arms.

“I might go to the shop to pick up some tea leaves. You need anything, Jeonghan?” Seungcheol, finally awake, pokes his head through the bedroom door, smelling of shaving finish, holding his shirt up to his chest.

“Mister!” Chan waves to Seungcheol excitedly, wiggling in his seat. “Good morning!”

“Morning, Chan.” Seungcheol chuckles.

“Mister! Appa won't let me wear my vest.” Vernon complains.

“Oh, no?” Seungcheol looks at him concerned. “Why not?”

“He says we’re going to a carnival, not a dance club.”

“Is that right, Jeonghan?” Seungcheol laughs. “There's dancing at carnivals.”

“Oh don't you start.” Jeonghan wags his comb at him.

“Alright, alright.” Seungcheol scratches his scar. “Do you need anything from the store?”

“I'm running low on sugar.” Jeonghan says very nonchalantly as Chan dramatically complains about how Jeonghans gonna brush his hair clean off his head.

“Sugar?” Seungcheol laughs, catching the innuendo. “I got you.”

Jeonghan smiles to himself as Seungcheol leaves the room. Breakfast is tea and milk bread and, Vernon humming along to some swing record, happily wearing his vest after Seungcheol defended his case to Jeonghan.

Seungcheol then gets up and gets them all up and dancing. Breakfast is then partially forgotten and Chan dances so hard he falls on his little bum, giggling as Seungkwan hoists him into his arms.

Jeonghan claps along by the table until Seungcheol pulls him into their little dance floor. He moves timid and awkward at first, laughing and unfocused, Seungcheol's hands holding his the only rhythm keeping him moving but the beat gets more jovial and Jeonghan lets loose a little, bumping foreheads with Seungcheol as they kick their feet. Vernon and Seungkwan egg him on, hooting and whooping, and then Jeonghan gets into the full swing of it and Seungcheol laughs loud and pretty, keeping pace just fine because they've always naturally been in tune like that even after 14 years.

The song ends with a blow from the trumpet and then the kitchen is filled with small giggles and young exhaling and a feeling that everything is the way it should be.

“I didn't know you could dance like that!” Seungkwan exclaims, pleasantly surprised.

“I didn't know either.” Jeonghan laughs breathlessly, ruffling Vernons hair as he comes up to hug him.

“Again, again!” Chan shouts from Seungkwans arms.

“Ah nah, Chan.” Seungcheol fixes his shirt sleeve. “We'd better get going, now. I wanna get there early so we can go on all the rides.”

They set out of the house, down the dirt path. The house has always been at a weird turn off, ways from the other houses in the town, you'd have to run from the docks to get there in 10 minutes. Jeonghan looks up at the thing. It's a dirty white, with paint peeling off and a broken shutter. Seungcheol follows his gaze and frowns.

“You ever consider repainting?”

“No time.” Jeonghan tuts.

“I could do it?” They start walking.

“Don't bother yourself, it’ll probably go back to old the next day.”

“You’ve got ghosts that angry?” Seungcheol looks at him, concerned, protective.

“Angry, occasionally. More sad, longing.” Jeonghan kicks a pebble. He hasn't been looked at like that in 14 years.

“They took a toll on you.”

“I'm still dancing.” Jeonghan smiles at him. "Trade off.

Seungcheol breaks into a grin. 

There are many people on the roads leading to the carnival, walking on grass, walking on the road, ignoring the automobiles that honk at them, all in high spirits and good chortles. Some Jeonghan recognizes, some are utterly foreign. The ones he knows wave at him and smile, ones he doesn't know do the same.

Seungcheol picks Chan up and sets him on his shoulders after paying for everyone's tickets. Jeonghan had insisted feverishly that he would pay but Seungcheol had his wallet out faster than lightning.

“I could've paid for the kids at least.” Jeonghan is mumbling moodily when Seungkwan recognizes a few of his friends and runs off to greet them with a shout of “I'll meet you at the confectioners stand!”

As Seungkwan leaves, Jeonghans hand immediately finds Vernons sweaty palm, grabbing on to it tight but comfortable. Vernon looks around timid and feeble, never having been one for big crowds. Jeonghan coaxes some smiles out of him, taking him to the gold fish stand. They catch three and name them all after Vernon's favorite musicians.

Seungcheol and Chan's excitement match as they both laugh and “ooh-aah” at the magician's tricks up on stage. Chan's mouth hangs open, tiny fists shagging Seungcheol's hair, as the magician pulls six roses from his sleeve and hands them to Seungcheol one by one. 

Seungkwan finds them again, holding four sticks of cotton candy. 

“I didn't wanna spend all my money so I figured you and your friend could share.” He says with a wiggle of his eyebrow and hands a pink one to Jeonghan who sees right through his excuse.

“Awful nice of you, Seungkwan.” Seungcheol praises cluelessly. Jeonghan pinches his nose bridge.

As the day goes on, Chan is near delirious from excessive consumption of sugar and having more fun than he's ever had in his 4 years of life, clutching a rose and a candy bar in one hand, a new teddy Seungcheol won for him and a fish named Jango in a plastic bag in his other hand. Jeonghan knows he’ll be blackout exhausted tomorrow but he's near delirious himself from sneaking shots of rum with Seungcheol under the kids unsuspecting noses and riding towering roller coasters, screaming at the top of his lungs while Seungkwan and Vernon guffaw by his side.

Then slowly the night edges closer, the sky bleeds into a dark purple-blue, twinkling white starts to peep from behind the clouds, the moon shifts into sight. Chan is spent, fast asleep in Jeonghans arms, Vernon is no longer holding Jeonghans hand like he's afraid, instead he's chewing slowly on his strawberry taffy content. Seungkwan has his hands in his pockets, sniffing the cool night air with his eyes set on the ferris wheel in front of him. The crowd is thinner. If Jeonghan looks closely, he can see some shadowy figures, certainly not human, weaving through unassuming fair-goers. 

“How about one last ride, Jeonghan?” Seungcheol asks softly, eyes dewy and cheeks pink from mild intoxication.

Jeonghan looks up at the Ferris wheel and back at Seungcheols pretty face, feeling like he's already on top of the world.

“You two go. I'll take Vernon and Chan home.” Seungkwan juts in before Jeonghan can say anything, carefully hoisting Chan out of Jeonghans arms. He turns to Vernon. “Come on, Vernon. We got school.”

“Right.” Vernon yawns. “I gotta study for the quiz I missed.”

“You had a quiz and you skipped school?” Jeonghan whips around.

Vernon breaks into a run behind Seungkwan, laughing. Jeonghan shakes his head.

“You're real hard about them going to school.” Seungcheol absently turns a rose between his fingers.

“I don't want to end up like me.” They start walking to the ferris wheel, the line is dwindling.

“At least you didn't end up dead.” Seungcheol says casually, offering Jeonghan the rose.

Jeonghan sniffs it quick and sticks it in his pocket as they take their seats in a blue compartment. The ride starts to slowly move.

Lights are slow in front of them, stars are slow, everything is slow. Jeonghan leans back in his seat and sighs, closing his eyes.

“Tired?” Seungcheol asks.

“Happy.” Jeonghan breaks into a small smile but feels sadness clinging to the corners of his mouth. “For the first time in a long while.”

“I'm glad, Jeonghan.”

There's sad happiness between them. Almost like they're both reaching the end of a long journey and after this ferris wheel ride there'll be nothing. It's sad happiness and it makes Jeonghan want to cry and laugh at the same time. Seungcheol's too quiet, not asking any questions, and Jeonghans too afraid to open his eyes and inquire why. Why is Seungcheol here? Why did he offer to do all this? To fix the house? To take them all to the carnival? Anything, everything. Jeonghan gulps.

Cling to it as he might, the sad happiness takes flight and dread fills him. Dread like he's standing in front of the electric chair dread. Dread like he doesn't know if any of his teammates are alive but there's blood on the floor dread. Dread like he doesn't know where Seungcheol is and last he heard from him was some shrieking dread. He swallows, keeping his eyes shut tight. That instinct kicks in, that “something's not quite right” instinct and Jeonghan can't figure out why. There's nothing wrong, him and Seungcheol are sitting together, finally together, full from cotton candy and rum, alive, happy, healthy, together, but something's wrong. Never be too happy, Jeonghans mind has learned.  _ Don't get your hopes up, someone's probably dead _ , Mingyu used to say.

Suddenly it feels like Seungcheol isn't sitting next to him and Jeonghan is all alone, like he’s always been alone. So alone and it's suffocating. It's a hard defense mechanism. If you're too happy it means someones dead.

Jeonghan gulps, keeps his eyes closed and slowly reaches his hand to the side, just to very gently touch Seungcheol's leg or arm or anything, just to make sure he's there and not imagined, just to make sure Jeonghan isn't alone. He reaches farther and farther but doesn't touch anything and his panic rises like his blood pressure.

“Jeonghan, what are you doing?” Jeonghans eyes shoot open and he whips his head to face Seungcheol. His arm is extended out in front of Seungcheol's face, shaking.

Jeonghan exhales hard, relieved, and hugs Seungcheol tight, feeling tremors climb up his spine. He's here, he's here, he's here and he's gonna fix up the house and Jeonghan shouldn't complain a damn bit because he could go and disappear any second.

“What's gotten into you?” Seungcheol chuckles, hugging back and rubbing Jeonghans back comfortingly.

“I’m so glad you came.” Jeonghans voice is an octave too high as he pulls back to face him, fingers pretty and slender on Seungcheol's cheekbones.

“Oh.” Seungcheol's eyebrows knot.

“What?” Jeonghans shoulders knit and he realizes why he felt like something was wrong. “You're not leaving, are you?”

“Well…I was planning on it.” Seungcheol's voice fades as his eyes roam Jeonghans expression. “Tomorrow morning...”

Jeonghans lips wobble. 

“Stay awhile, won't you? There’s no catching up on 5 years in 2 days.”

Seungcheol looks at him sadly. “Jeonghan, I can't stay forever. I want to, but I can't.”

Jeonghans heart sinks like that was the worst news he's heard in his life. He bites his lip, feeling angry.

“Why not? You haven't got anywhere else to go.” He removes his hands from Seungcheol and folds his arms, staring at the slow lights, childish.

Seungcheol chuckles and straightens up himself, leaning forward against the railing of the cart. 

“You're still the same, Jeonghan.”

Jeonghans blinks away the moisture that piles in his eyes from the cold air as they reach the top of the wheel. Lights, pink, gold, blue, white, every color, stare back. Trees blow in the wind, dancing almost, buildings stand tall, strong, unwavering.

“You see color?” It's like Seungcheol can tell what he's thinking.

“I see you.”

“I'm not color.”

“You're something. I can see mud brown and sky grey, blood red sometimes.”

"Can you see blue?"

"No."

Silence. Jeonghan gulps.

“Remember what Mingyu used to say?” Seungcheol asks quietly.

“O-oh don't start with him.” Jeonghans voice shakes more than he was expecting.

Seungcheol eyes go hard. “If you're too happy, someone's dead.”

“Who's dead here? Me or you?”

“Which is worse?”

“Both?”

Seungcheol reaches out and grabs Jeonghans hand, biting his lip, looking hesitant, his palm squeezes Jeonghans knuckles then releases, and he presses his lips into a tight line.

Jeonghan sees him dirty brown, with grass stains on his face. There's a pretty red ribbon of blood trickling out of his mouth and Mingyus screaming at them both.

“Worse is that both of us lived.” Jeonghans seeing too many colors.

Seungcheol sits up and claps his hands, rubbing them together, making fiery yellow sparks. 

“Well, we’re here. And that's what matters.” He forces a pink laugh. “Right, baby?”

Jeonghan looks at his young face, sky blue and grass green, pink like cotton candy, soft yellow, soft, soft, soft, like linen.

Seungcheol holds shaky eye contact for a couple seconds before clearing his throat and his smile disappears so fast it's like it was never there, color gone. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, staring at the soft lights in front of them. 

“Beautiful town you're living in.” Seungcheol comments softly. “It's real pretty. Lots of colors.”

Jeonghan looks at the wind weave through his hair, brushing it over his forehead and fresh eyes. It's serene up here. Jeonghan’s serene up here, weightless without his ghosts dragging him down, so serene with Seungcheol here next to him, even if he's not gonna be here tomorrow.

“Stay awhile, won't you?” Jeonghan tries again quietly.

Seungcheol sighs heavy. 

“You're letting your guard down too easy, Jeonghan.”

“Maybe I am.”

Silence.

“I guess somebody's gotta stick around then. Keep you out of harm's way.” Seungcheol sits up, facing Jeonghan again, smiling sheepishly. “But I can't stay too long. That won't do either of us good.”

Jeonghan doesn't ask why it won't do him good. A hole of anxiety burns in his stomach but he kisses Seungcheol like it's the most romantic thing in the world.

~

Seungcheol sleeps in the next day like he's never slept in his life, snoring obscenely but lovably, his scar is bleeding red again but Jeonghan learned to trust it won't burst open. Conversations from last night are foggy, hazy colors, he's thankful for that. The world is browns and greys. No time for sky blues.

Jeonghan sets out for work after sending Vernon and Seungkwan off to school. Chan stays asleep like Seungcheol, showing no signs of waking up in the next few hours, knocked out with pink cotton candy still stuck to the corner of his mouth.

The good mood that Seungcheol brought follows Jeonghan to the docks. He loads fish out of nets and into buckets, lugging them to trucks and never feels a strain on his knees.

“You're looking lively.” One man comments.

“Feeling it.” Jeonghan grins back without any weight holding his mouth down.

The portable radio that plays from the docking station blares songs Jeonghan hates but he hums to them under his breath, the tangy smell of fish not a single bother to his nostrils.

At noon when the sun is peeking out from behind the pristine white clouds shyly, Jeonghan bids his goodbye and walks home with ragtime in his step. The house has always been at a strange isolated turn off, must be why it was so cheap to buy, previous owner wanted to get rid of it as soon as possible. The house itself is nothing pretty to look at either, looking especially old in this sunlight, white and dirty. Jeonghan gets closer and closer and slows.

Under the hot sun and white clouds, almost illuminated like a divine being in light, Seungcheol is there in dusty overalls that are tight on his thighs, balanced precariously on a ladder that looks like it's gonna break soon, he's hammering away at a broken pale shutter, two nails sticking out between his teeth, the concentration on his brow so endearing, Jeonghan lets out a sound of delight.

“What are you doing up there, you goof?!” He laughs, coming up to the ladder.

Seungcheol stops mid-hammer and turns to Jeonghan with a grin. He takes the nails out of his mouth and tuts.

“I'm fixing up your house, goof.”

Jeonghan folds his arms, smiling at Seungcheol fondly as he climbs down the ladder, dusting his overalls. Seungcheol runs his hand through his hair, smiling so pretty, Jeonghans heart skips a beat.

“You don't need to fix anything, goof.”

Seungcheol pecks Jeonghan on the cheek. “No broken things while I'm around, you hear?”

“Oh baby.” Jeonghan shakes his head, chuckling. “What else is done?”

“Done? Hmm…” Seungcheol strokes his chin. “I got the wash in, made Chan some breakfast and put him in front of the TV, the kid eats enough for 3 grown men.” He laughs. “And then I made all the beds, and now I'm outside to fix up the shutters.” He beams.

Jeonghan laughs, wrapping his arms around Seungcheol's neck. “Looks like I got myself a pretty little housewife.”

Seungcheol kisses Jeonghan again. “You said stay a while, so I thought I might get some things done while I'm here.”

Jeonghan smiles wobbly, brushing his thumb over Seungcheol's cheek, feeling relief so immense, it weakens his knees and spine. If Seungcheol notices, he doesn't say anything, just wraps his arm tightly around the small of Jeonghans lower back, matting away the tree branches on his skin.

“You gonna shower when we go inside?” Seungcheol asks.

Jeonghans eyebrows knit. “Why?”

“You smell like dead fish.” Seungcheol holds back a guffaw, biting his plush lip.

Jeonghan hits him on the head, pouting. “And you smell like some dusty overalls.”

Seungcheol laughs breathlessly and tucks his arm around Jeonghans shoulder as they walk back into the house.

“Hi Mister! Hi Appa!” Chan greets them, waving his spatula enthusiastically, with a strainer plopped on his head and one of Jeonghans bedsheets tied around his shoulders like a cape.

“Oh, baby.” Jeonghan covers his mouth with his hand, holding back his laughter. “What are you doing?”

“Playing superhero!” Chan waves his spatula higher like it's the most obvious thing.

“Superhero?” Jeonghan asks, squatting down and untying the bedsheets from Chan's neck.

“Mhmm.” Chan nods as Jeonghan takes the strainer off his head. “Mister said I was too little to help him outside so I’m helping inside.”

“I had the idea that Chan could ‘protect’ the house while I worked outside.” Seungcheol folds his arms, grinning. “Didn't want him messing around with sharp tools, huh?”

“Oh, we wouldn't want that.” Jeonghan folds the bedsheets and straightens up. He turns to Chan. “That's enough superhero games for today.”

Chan nods absently and goes to Seungcheol, stretching his arms out expectantly. Seungcheol picks him up, comfortably holding him with his hip jutted. Jeonghan watches with mild jealousy but he isn't sure who out of the two of them he's jealous of.

“You hungry?” Seungcheols only got eyes for Chan.

“Yeah, pretty hungry. I want noodles.”

“I'll get started on lunch, then.” Jeonghan starts to head toward the kitchen.

“Aw no, Appa! You're gonna make curry!” Chan makes a face. “Yucky!”

Seungcheol breaks into a raunchy guffaw and Jeonghans face turns red but before he can retort with some paternal scolding, Seungcheol cuts in.

“Why don't you go run along, Chan?” Seungcheol sets him down, laughter dying down slowly. “I'll help Appa with lunch.”

“Don't let him make curry!” Chan looks up and stomps his foot.

“I'll try.” Seungcheol grins at Jeonghan.

Jeonghan rolls his eyes and goes to the kitchen, throwing his apron on and getting some vegetables out of the pantry. Seungcheol follows, laughing softly.

“How about you live here and I go off to finish your business?” Jeonghan pouts, getting out the cutting board. “Let's switch places.”

Seungcheol snakes his arms around Jeonghans middle. 

“You'd like that, wouldn't you?” He hums to himself.

Jeonghan hides a small smile, melting back into Seungcheol's embrace with ease, feeling his chest expand behind his shoulder blades. They fit together. Maybe not like puzzle pieces or anything romantic like that, but they fit the way they should. Together.

“My curry tastes great.” Jeonghan says a little sadly.

“It sure does. Chan hasn't got a clue.” Seungcheol kisses Jeonghans neck.

“Exactly.” Jeonghan nods to himself, chopping a tomato.

A plate drops off a shelf behind them and usually Jeonghan would jump in surprise and then shakily go to clean it but now he doesn't even flinch. Seungcheol turns though, his arms leaving Jeonghans waist.

There's a stretch of silence where Jeonghan ignores the fear that Seungcheol must've somehow magically disappeared again. He chops vegetables hard and messy, biting his lip, too afraid to turn around.

Then Seungcheol speaks up to Jeonghans relief but what he says is anything but relieving.

“Your ghosts don't like me.”

“They're angry we lived and they didn't.” Jeonghan lies through his teeth.

“Hmm.” Seungcheol answers back distractedly.

Vernon excessively compliments Jeonghans curry that night.

The next morning when Jeonghan wakes up, his flowers are in full bloom and he rushes to go puke in the bathroom. When he straightens up, wiping his mouth in the mirror he sees Wonwoo out of the corner of his eye. He's visibly upset with his arms folded but does nothing more. Jeonghan shaves quietly, guiltily.

_ Why him and not me? _ Wonwoo doesn't talk because they cut his tongue but Jeonghan could always tell what he was thinking. 

_ Why him and not me? _ Jeonghan doesn't have an answer. Why did he only long for Seungcheol and ignore all his other ghosts? Jeonghans not the one with answers.

_ God willing, karma will come back to bite you in the ass _ . Mingyu always said.

_ Why him and not me? _ Jeonghan goes to throw up again and it burns his throat.

“You okay, Jeonghan?” That voice cuts like ice in Jeonghans veins.

He sits up, wiping his mouth. “Yeah, I'm alright. Just a little sick.”

Seungkwan pouts and helps Jeonghan up. He rests his palm on Jeonghans forehead. 

“Maybe you should stay home today. You're warm.” He rubs his hands together.

Jeonghan dusts himself off, avoiding looking into the mirror. “I think I'd like that.”

“Go back to bed then, I'll cover your shift.”

“But you have school.”

“And we've got bills.”

“Seungkwa-”

“No.” Seungkwan cuts him off. “Go to bed. I got breakfast too.”

“Don't be pushy.” Jeonghan folds his arms, standing his ground just fine even though he's shaking. “I'll be damned if you skip school.”

Seungkwan rolls his eyes and huffs. “I'll figure it out. Please just go to bed, you're looking really sick.”

“Where's all this worry coming from?” Jeonghan demands.

“I'm your son.” Seungkwan gawks at him. “Whether you like it or not.”

There it is. The answer Jeonghan avoids talking about it. He gives in immediately, not wanting the conversation to venture any further in that direction.

“Alright, alright.”

Seungkwan clicks his tongue. “I'll get you some soup.”

“Soup?” Jeonghan looks at him. “You barely cook.”

“Why? I'm just looking out for you.” Seungkwan folds his arms. “I can figure it out. Just throw some chicken and veggies in a pot and stir. How hard can it be?”

Jeonghan sighs and then smiles, patting Seungkwans head. “Alright, thank you.”

Seungkwan snorts and goes on his way downstairs. Jeonghan comes out of the bathroom and goes toward the bedroom door but then it shuts in his face loudly. He stands stunned for a few shaken seconds before going to open the door. Seungcheol is peacefully asleep, pretty pink cheeks, snoring and all.

Jeonghan climbs into bed with him, snuggling into his side, eyes darting around feverishly as he feels eyes on him. A chill runs up his spine and he digs his face into Seungcheol's chest, hugging tight because suddenly it's so cold and Jeonghan can't understand why.

There's fingers all over him, feeling the tree branches on his back, feeling the scars that stem from the nape of his neck and trickle down to his lower back, feeling them, taking Jeonghans intimacy, his privacy, ripping him open and screaming at him “why did you let us die?” or something of the sort.

Jeonghan doesn't have an answer. Everything sounds like fireworks. He's seeing Mingyu screaming at him to r _un they're coming after you! He's got a gun, he's gonna shoot he's gonna shoot he's gonna shoot,_ _Jeonghan run!_ And Jeonghan puts foot in front of foot, knobby knees, heart beating in his ears because run this could be it, _you wouldn't live to see the next sunrise you've got a whip on your back and you better run,_ Wonwoo’s half bloody half dead and Jeonghan doesn't know which one is worse and _you better run faster than those legs can take you or you’ll never see the next sunrise, you’ll never see those flowers bloom,_ you’ll never see Seungcheol ever again.

Jeonghans got a hand fisted so hard in Seungcheol's shirt that it wakes him up.

“What?” He mutters, hands coming up to feel Jeonghans steel fingers. 

Jeonghan can't breathe, there's fingers around his neck. Real fingers, no dreams. They're pressing tighter and tighter, squeezing Jeonghans windpipe. He can feel himself turning red, he can feel tears squeezing out of his eyes, his tongue snarls in his mouth, trying to garble out some words. Seungcheol's leaning over him, a wild look in his eyes that Jeonghans seen only once before on him

Weakly, weakly, Jeonghan stops trying to pry the hands off his throat, instead he touches Seungcheol's face, smoothing out the hard lines in his cheeks with shaking fingers, wheezing out words that don't make sense, his eyes start to shut, teeth stay gritted, till Seungkwans voice brings him back.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!” There's the thud of a bowl on the carpet and the fingers leave Jeonghans throat.

He coughs and groans, breathing hard, feeling the prints left on his Adam's apple, his eyes are still wet and blurry but he can make out Seungcheol sitting by his side, staring at his hands like he's just delivered a miscarriage, mouth hanging open, lips quivering, and even in Jeonghans haggard state he can't help but notice how pretty he looks.

“Jeonghan, are you okay?” Seungkwans never looked this worried in his entire life and Jeonghans not sure what else to do other than stare up at him and nod as he checks his face and neck.

Finally, after making sure Jeonghan is accounted for, Seungkwan turns to Seungcheol. “Who the fuck are you?!”

Seungcheol's still staring at his hands, mute and blind to the world.

“I'm talking to you.” Seungkwan says again.

There's a ringing in the room. The kind that can only be a bad omen. Jeonghan sits up, propelled by an anxious stomach as he realizes he isn't the only one capable of being hurt by ghosts.

“I'm fine, Seungkwan. Go check on the other two.”

“Never mind them, he tried to strangle-”

“Go check on Vernon and Chan.” There's ghosts lined up along the walls, sneering at them. Jeonghans got goosebumps.

“He tried to-”

“Go check on Vernon and Chan. Now.” Low and menacing and slow, and Jeonghans never spoken to anyone like that in his life.

Seungkwans eyes flit from Seungcheol to Jeonghan to the walls and back. His lip quivers but he says nothing. He leaves the bowl on the carpet and the door open behind him.

Jeonghan feels bruises forming on his neck. He touches Seungcheol's shoulder lightly.

“Seungcheol?” The room is suddenly so quiet. “It's okay. I'm okay.”

Seungcheol's hands drop to his lap, heavy. There's big eyes watching their every move. Jeonghans scared but soldiers never admit they're scared. Not out loud at least.

“I had a dream, Jeonghan.” Seungcheol's voice is throaty, spoken from his chest. “It was so blue.”

“Blue?”

“Beautiful blue.” There's a longing in his voice Jeonghans only heard once before in his life.

“You were with me. So were the kids.” Seungcheol's voice cracks.

“Oh, Seungcheol-”

“I almost killed you there, didn't I?” Big tears slide down Seungcheol's face.

“It wasn't you. They made you do it.” Jeonghan scoots closer.

“Doesn't matter who made me do it. Fact is that I did it.”

“It's the house, Seungcheol. Don't beat yourself up over it.”

“You ever tried moving out?” Seungcheol wipes his eyes and sniffs.

“Where would I go? Take three youngins with me?”

There's no answer for that.

“What was your dream, baby?” Jeonghan tries a change of subject.

“Real nasty ghosts in this house.” Seungcheol sighs. “Suck the life right out of you.”

“Maybe.” Jeonghan wraps his arms around Seungcheol's arm, resting his chin on Seungcheol's shoulder. “Blue dreams make nasty ghosts.”

“Trade off.” Seungcheol's lips find Jeonghans temple. “We’ll go together some day. The five of us to that blue dream.”

“I don't know if Seungkwan will want to go.” Jeonghan teases lightly, ignoring the pain stemming from his neck. “Seemed pretty upset earlier.”

“He had every right to be.” Seungcheol is too somber.

“It was an accident.” Jeonghan tells him.

“Has Seungkwan always been that protective of you?”

The question catches Jeonghan by surprise. He sits up. 

“He's not protective of me, I don't think so. He's just protective of the things I provide for him. If I wasn't here, where would he be?”

“Aw don't make him out to be heartless like that.” Seungcheol gives Jeonghan a look.

“He's not heartless, just tired.”

“Tired?”

“He's given up on this world. Plain tired of it and he’s barely seen it.”

“Not much to see.” Seungcheol says dully.

“Doesn’t pity the living or the ghosts. He’s here and he’s passing by as he needs to.” Jeonghan absently massages Seungcheols arm. “Sometimes he seems more longing than the ghosts.”

“Wasn’t always like that, I’m sure?” Seungcheol says. “I saw him laughing with his friends at the carnival.”

“I mean, everyone looks for something that makes them laugh.”

“What about when he was younger? Or did you only get to know teenage Seungkwan?”

“He was a happier kid for the few months I knew him as a kid. More like Chan when he was younger. Always singing, always singing. Had the voice for it, too.” The image of Seungkwans pitter patter footsteps blooms in Jeonghans mind.

“That sounds nice.” Seungcheol comments through a yawn. Things move slow and the fatigue that comes with being old sets back into them. “A singing Seungkwan.”

“But the second he realized why I was here and his parents weren’t...” Jeonghans cheek rests on Seungcheol shoulder again. “The light went out of his eyes.”

“Light?” Seungcheol asks.

“You said I’m blind, I can’t see color.” Jeonghan attempts an explanation. “Like that…” Jeonghan gets quieter, feeling like he’s not making any sense. “Seungkwan, he keeps to himself since he knows there isn’t much to love. I don’t bother him, why should I? Hes just..he’s...”

“He's passing by as he needs to.” Seungcheol finishes quietly. “Like a ghost should.”

Ghosts swirl and fade into nothing. The room returns to a normal temperature, Jeonghan doesn’t feel eyes on himself anymore. It's so quiet.

“Thank you, Seungcheol.” Jeonghan pipes up after some time. Or maybe a minute.

“For what?”

“For taking the kids to the carnival.” Birds chirp outside. “They needed it.”

“We all needed it.” Seungcheol says.

Jeonghan stays quiet and they float together like that. In a blue dream. Even though Jeonghan could’ve died just minutes ago.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for this chapter, thanks so much for reading !! if anyone is interested this is loosely inspired by Toni Morrisons Beloved

Emotions are raw after that. Seungcheol jokes around with Chan and helps an unwilling Seungkwan with some cleaning around the house. He tenderly avoids Jeonghan as much as possible without making it seem too obvious. Jeonghan stays cocooned in his shawl, at rest on the sofa, smiling softly when he and Seungcheol occasionally meet eyes, at peace like he's been ever since Seungcheol came to the house.

Seungcheol, however, is almost too careful around Jeonghan, too uncomfortable, but he does his best to smile it off. There’s a forced calm to the mood, and if anyone notices, they make no mention of it. 

Later that afternoon, Vernon comes home from school and into the kitchen with a black eye, busted lip, and a soaked book bag. Jeonghan is mulling about the kitchen, organizing some spices when Vernon hobbles in, hoping for a hug and some comforting words but Jeonghan gasps in anger instead.

“What happened?!” He takes Vernon’s school bag from him. “Did those older boys bully you again?!”

The commotion brings Seungcheol into the kitchen as well. Seungkwan comes in as well, passes by him pretending he's not there and when his eyes land on Vernon, his brow furrows. 

“You see what happens when you don't go to school?!” Jeonghan barks at him. “Your brother gets his ass beat by kids twice his size because you're not there to protect him!”

Seungkwan goes to Vernon, wiping the blood trickling out of his mouth. Vernon starts sniffling, shoulders shaking. 

Jeonghan fumes as he takes Vernon’s wet and soggy books out of his bag, whipping them at the ground.

Seungcheol takes the wet bag from Jeonghan and dumps it into the sink, quietly. 

“Hey, bud… You're not hurt too bad, are you?” He asks. 

“I'm fine.” Vernon’s voice cracks. 

Jeonghan runs a hand through his hair and exhales loudly. A minute passes of Seungkwan wiping away the blood on Vernon’s face and Seungcheol picking up the wet books off the floor and going to dump them in the trash. 

“What did they say?” Seungcheol asks, coming back. 

“Didn't say anything. Saw me walking alone.” Vernon answers, wincing as Seungkwan pushes on his brow bone. 

“You didn't run.”

“How am I supposed to run from 4 high school kids, mister?”

“I'm sorry that happened, Vernon. ” Seungcheol shakes his head. 

Seungkwan ignores Seungcheol and looks at Jeonghan, waiting for him to do something, say something.

“Let's get you bandaged up, then.” Jeonghan finally breaks his silence. 

He goes to retrieve a first aid kit he keeps on the top shelf above the stove for emergencies and sets Vernon on the kitchen table.  The somber mood lightens up a bit when Chan runs into the kitchen and bumps into Seungcheol’s legs. He looks up with big inquiring eyes. 

“What's going on?” He demands in a squeaky voice. 

“Oh nothing, Channie.” Seungcheol hoists him into his arms. “Vernon just got a little bruise at school.” 

“Mister?” Vernon calls peeking over Jeonghan’s shoulder as Jeonghan wraps his elbow with a white bandage.

Seungcheol looks to him. “Yes, Vernon?” 

“You know how to fight?” He says it more like a statement than a question. 

“How come?” Seungcheol replies. 

“You're big and strong.” 

“Your Appa can fight too.” 

“This conversation better not go where I know it's going.” Jeonghan warns, dabbing an alcohol swab on the cut on Vernon’s forehead. 

“And you.” He turns to Seungkwan. “Go ask your friends what classwork you missed.”

Seungkwan groans but heads out of the kitchen. Vernon quiets down at that but Seungcheol was never a person who liked being told what to do. 

“Why, Vernon?” He steps closer, ignoring the daggers Jeonghan’s shooting at him. “You want me to teach you?” 

Vernon’s eyes look hopeful as he mouths a “yes”. Jeonghan gets an ice pack out of the fridge and presses it to Vernons eye. “Keep this here.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Teach me teach me!” Chan squeals, leaping out of Seungcheol’s arms. “I wanna learn to fight!” 

Jeonghan sighs, patting Vernons shoulder as he jumps off the table and runs out of the room. Chan follows, throwing karate chops in the air.

“You got ‘em started, Seungcheol.” 

“Self defense won't hurt,” Seungcheol says. “Seungkwan’s not always gonna be around to make sure Vernon’s accounted for.”

“I’ll be long dead before I let you teach him anything that could get him in trouble.” Jeonghan folds his arms. 

“You think I'm gonna turn your stray into a gangster?”

“I'm saying I don't want him getting in any trouble.” Jeonghan bites, unsure of where his anger is coming from. 

“What's worse? Trouble or bruises?” Seungcheol asks. 

“Trouble because he could give someone else bruises.” Jeonghan throws bandages and such back into the kit, slamming it closed. 

“So you're okay with letting him get kicked around like this?” Seungcheol demands. “That's no trade off.”

“I don't want him getting more hurt than he already is!” Jeonghan shouts. 

“Don't go raising your voice at me, Jeonghan. He needs to learn how to defend himself.” 

“Oh and you know everything there is to know about self defense, don't you?” Jeonghan points an accusing finger at him. “You and your damned self defense is what got us separated at the border and what got me that electric chair!” Jeonghan pokes his chest. 

Seungcheol gawks at him, folding his arms. 

“You're blaming your own recklessness at me? That's it, Jeonghan? They used that chair on more than one person.”

Jeonghan’s mind flashes back to Wonwoo staring at him in the mirror earlier in the morning. If Jeonghan has a tree, Seungcheol has a forest, and everyone else has been dead for ages.

“You got them all killed.” 

That ignites a fire in Seungcheol’s eyes. 

“I didn't do shit to anyone!” He barks. “You got some nerve saying that!” 

Jeonghan squares his shoulders. 

“If anyone's got nerve here, it's you. Showing up to my door, eating my food-”

“Shut your damn mouth, Jeonghan.”

But Jeonghan’s voice gets louder. He's seeing red but he doesn't know why. He only knows that he's angry, oh so angry, he could rip Seungcheol apart right now. 

“Sleeping in my bed, talking to my kids-”

“ENOUGH!” Seungcheol’s voice is so big, the cupboards he fixed up the other day break off their hinges.

Jeonghan grits his teeth, breathing hard. 

“You dog.” He growls. “You filthy dog.” 

There's a bright red scar across Seungcheol’s neck that's looking to burst open any second. Jeonghan sees dark, dark, dark ghosts looming behind him. Jeonghans got a question he wants to ask but he's not sure Seungcheol will answer. Questions kill, questions bring up the answers and nobody wants to talk about the answers. Questions bring up the ghosts you want to forget. Nothing left to be remembered, let alone thought of. 

“You dog.” He grits. His heart shakes in his chest. “You don't know what it was like watching them do that to y-you.” 

Seungcheol scratches the scar on his neck roughly, jaw clenched tight. Jeonghan bites his lip, watching Seungcheol’s fingers tease that bright red flesh over and over and over until- 

“Stop it, will you?!” Jeonghan screams. “Are you trying to kill yourself?!” 

“I can't stay here, Jeonghan.” 

The second the words are uttered from Seungcheol’s lips, Jeonghan shuts down. If Seungcheol leaves, Jeonghan will be left alone again to face his ghosts alone again. At least with Seungcheol here, there's someone to remind to get up every morning and water his plants, to get up every morning and make breakfast for the kids, to get up every morning and live, not just exist, wilting away until he becomes the very ghosts he is haunted by. 

“No baby, I'm sorry, baby please, I'm so sorry.” Jeonghan leaps into him, clutching his shoulders so tight. “I won't raise my voice again, Seungcheol please-”

Seungcheols chewing on his words, hands continuously going up to his neck until Jeonghan holds them down in his own two in a vice like grip. 

“O-oh Seungcheol…” Jeonghan shakes his head slowly. “Stop t-touching that wound, you're k-killing me..” 

Seungcheol struggles for a while, eyes shut tight, as if he's trying to wish Jeonghan away. He exhales. 

“Let go of me, Jeonghan.” He says quietly. 

Jeonghan’s grip tightens in fear that if he lets go, Seungcheol will vanish again like he did that day long ago, that day where they dragged him to his knees and Jeonghan could only watch through bloody eyes when they raised that rifle to his head. 

“Let go of me!” Seungcheol yanks his hands away. 

Jeonghan stands there, arms dead by his side, lips insecure and quivering, like a scared child. 

Seungcheol’s translucent, scars bleeding red, staining his white shirt all pretty, eyes are hollow and sad, bloodshot like he's been crying for hours. He's on his knees, brown where the dirt hit him, dark ghosts are looming behind him and someone cocks their rifle. 

Then six gunshots go off and Seungcheol falls on his face into the mud. A claw like hand gets him by the hair and forces his limp body upright, six black holes spilling brains out of his forehead. Another hand comes down and slits Seungcheol’s throat, just for good measure. 

Jeonghan blinks, once, twice, unable to process what just happened before him. Unable to process that Seungcheol is dead. 

Jeonghan looks around. Wonwoo’s drowning in a pool of his own blood and Jun’s fighting off whoever comes near him. Something hits Jeonghan hard on the back of his neck and then he's got his hands tied behind his back, standing in front of a man he's never seen in his life. They've got Soonyoung and they've got his head wrapped in a rag. They're dumping bucketfuls of water on him while he's tied to a chair, and Seokmin’s hiding his sniffles next to Jeonghan because he's got his hands tied behind his back too and he's next. But all Jeonghan can think is what did they do to Seungcheol? Even though he knows exactly what happened to Seungcheol, his mind refuses to accept it. What did they do to Seungcheol? Jeonghan’s got answers but he's too afraid to ask questions. Questions kill, questions bring up the ghosts you want to remember so badly.

It's Seungkwan who calls him back. Seungkwan with his high voice that used to hold all the happiness in the world in it. Seungkwan who's only tired now. Passing through like a ghost. 

“Arguing like children, I can't believe it.” He's ranting. “Chans been crying and Vernon looks like he's seen a ghost. At least settle your differences while we’re not in the house.” 

Jeonghan looks around. Seungcheol’s standing there fuming as Seungkwan glares at Jeonghan. Soonyoung’s not getting waterboarded, Seokmin’s not next to him crying. They're both dead and Jeonghan’s standing here in the middle of his kitchen, hands aren't tied by rope but by something else. 

“It's past lunch. If you don't plan on making anything, I'll go out and get something.” 

Jeonghan stays silent, unsure of whether his voice will come out if he tries to speak. 

“And you.” Seungkwan turns to Seungcheol. “Don't raise your voice at my father like that again.” 

“How about you don't meddle? It'll do you good.” Seungcheol responds, hiding the threat in his voice with a smile, massaging his wrists. 

Seungkwan eyes him suspiciously and this would've been Jeonghan’s cue to break them up but he can't get his voice out.

Seungcheol turns to Jeonghan, the fight gone out of his eyes. Finally. 

“Go on, Jeonghan. You and Seungkwan go out and get some groceries. Talk things out. I'll stay here.” 

“You’ll stay?” Jeonghan asks, words pouring out of his throat full of hope. 

“I'll stay.” There's a tinge of something demonic in Seungcheol’s voice but Jeonghan pays no mind. 

“I'll see you in a little while, then?” Jeonghan nervously toys with a thread dangling from the hem of his shirt. 

“You will.” Seungcheol assures him and steps out of the kitchen like he's floating. 

“We’re out of ginger, I think.” Seungkwan says. 

Jeonghan keeps staring at the doorway where Seungcheol left. 

When they come home, Seungcheol is lounging on the sofa, reading the newspaper, leaned back but interested. Chan is fast asleep, his head rested against Seungcheol’s side, Vernon is by his feet, bent over his notebook and chewing on the end of his pencil in concentration. There's ragtime playing on the radio. 

“We’re back.” Seungkwan announces. 

Seungcheol glances up and then goes back to reading. 

“Welcome back.” He mumbles. 

“Appa, if you divide 7 by 0 what does it equal?” Vernon asks. 

“There's no answer.” Jeonghan answers, grimacing at the purple decorating his face. “It doesn't work like that.”

“What do you mean? It's gotta be some number.” 

“Dividing by 0 just doesn't work, baby.” Jeonghan shrugs and heads into the kitchen.

“Math is weird.” He hears Vernon mutter.

Dinner that night is eaten in silence. 

The next morning, Vernon comes down with a fever. Jeonghan tucks him into bed after giving him some children's Tylenol and heads into the bathroom. 

Seungcheol is in there dressed only in his night pants, leaned over the sink, jaw fluffy and white as he goes at the foam with his razor carefully. 

“You're up early today.” Jeonghan comments, coming to his side. 

“Hmm.” Seungcheol continues to shave. 

“Vernon’s sick so I'm gonna stay home with him.” Jeonghan touches Seungcheol’s shoulder.

Seungcheol’s skin is deathly cold and Jeonghan slowly removes his hand in confusion. He looks at his palm, then looks at Seungcheol who is in deep concentration shaving his upper lip. 

This time it’s Mingyu in the corner of the mirror, glaring at Jeonghan with daggers in his eyes. 

Jeonghan quietly steps out of the bathroom. 

As the days progress, Jeonghan starts going to work later and later. Then he starts coming home earlier and earlier. 

Everyday when Jeonghan returns, Seungcheol is relaxed on the sofa, reading the news. Chan is always by his side. The first thing Vernon does when he comes home is tell Seungcheol about his day at school. Seungkwan however, immediately goes into his room, changes out of his uniform, and leaves the house again. 

The house gets colder and colder despite it being the middle of July. Jeonghan starts wearing his shawl more and more often to combat the cold. 

At some point, Jeonghan stops going to work. He sits quietly on the one seater, eyes vacant but alert, alive but dead, looking at nothing at all but watching Seungcheol, watching the way he sits, stands, talks, moves, breathes, exists. 

Seungcheol becomes quieter by the day. Everyday he wakes up before Jeonghan, showers, shaves, dresses, makes a pot of coffee and a pan of bread for everyone and stations himself on the sofa with the newspaper. Chan occasionally coaxes him into a game of catch, Vernon discusses the new releases of music on the other side of the globe. Seungkwan doesn't look at him. The most that happens between Jeonghan and Seungcheol are soft glances and soft kisses in the morning, as if Seungcheol can't muster the strength to do anything else. Jeonghan hangs onto every look like his life depends on it. 

Seungkwan walks up to Seungcheol one day. 

“Aren't you gonna find some work? Or are you gonna keep living here like a guest?” 

“Don't raise your voice.” Jeonghan pipes up immediately in a frail, but firm voice. 

“You haven't paid the bills in ages, somebody has to do something.” Seungkwans too tired. 

When there's no reply, Seungkwan goes up to his room, defeated. Seungcheol smiles softly at Jeonghan and Jeonghan’s heart swells. 

“I'm staying here.” Seungcheol assures him. 

Jeonghan nods as Chan climbs into his lap and starts snuggling into his chest. 

Food becomes sparce and Jeonghans stops eating altogether. Seungkwan begrudgingly forces small morsels from his own plate into Jeonghans mouth but it does little. The skin on Jeonghans hands becomes thinner and thinner till his bones poke out very clearly. His clothes become baggy, his hair loses volume. But he pays no mind. 

Seungcheol occasionally leaves the house with Vernon and Chan to buy them sweets and treats with money he seemingly produces out of thin air. 

When he leaves, Seungkwan takes the time to scold Jeonghan and pressure him into kicking Seungcheol out of the house. But Jeonghan sits unresponsive. 

At some point, when Jeonghan’s hunger for looking dies down, he gains an appetite for touching. And Seungcheol and Jeonghan begin to make love every night. 

The hot sheets stick to Jeonghans back uncomfortably but Seungcheol fucks him hard and that satisfies him enough till the next night. 

During the day, Jeonghan clings to Seungcheol like a moth to light. Seungcheol in return, holds Jeonghan’s hand like he's holding a fistful of diamonds, he softly whispers nonsense in Jeonghan’s ear, making absolutely no sense as if he's forgotten how to form words but Jeonghan loves it all the same. 

Jeonghan gets thinner and thinner but Seungcheol’s physique remains the same, everyday his scar gets redder and thicker, looking ready to burst open if he turns his head the wrong way. And it terrifies Jeonghan. He continuously strokes his fingers over Seungcheol’s neck without any reason. 

Chan cries of hunger, Vernon falls asleep too easily, but Jeonghan only sees Seungcheol. 

Then Seungkwan takes on a part time job and makes enough to buy two loaves of bread every week and pay the water bill. Jeonghan still does not eat. 

One day, Seungkwan drags Jeonghan out of bed and forces him into the kitchen. 

“What are you doing?” Jeonghan asks as he flicks the stove on. The tiny fire crackles prettily. 

“We’re gonna have some breakfast and then find you some work.” Seungkwan replies curtly, putting a pot on the stove with some oil. 

“I don't need work, I’ve got Seungcheol.”

Seungkwan stops at that and faces Jeonghan, looking ready to cry. Jeonghan can't conjure up a response. 

“What is wrong with you?” He asks desperately. “Ever since that day you two fought, it's been cold.”

“Cold.”

“Cold! He's taking our warmth, Jeonghan. Can't you see?” Seungkwan throws his hands down. “He's living off us like a parasite!”

“Don't raise your voice.”

“Jeonghan!” Seungkwan screams frustrated. "He's killing us!"

Silence. Jeonghan knows it's been cold a lot longer than what Seungkwan thinks. Ever since Seungcheol showed up to his doorstep, dressed in the same rags Jeonghan had last seen him in, Jeonghan knew he had invited a demon into his house. But that demon looked like love, talked like love, smiled like love, laughed like love, touched like love. How could Jeonghan have possibly said no?

Trade off. 

Jeonghan traded his sanity for Seungcheol’s love. And then, for the few weeks Seungcheol had stayed there, stealing everyone's warmth under a mask of love and fixing things, Jeonghan felt like everything was the way it should have been. Even though Seungcheol was slowly killing him, Jeonghan felt alive. 

“I'm gonna find you work,” Seungkwan’s looking too old as he grabs Jeonghan’s hand and they step out of the house. “And you're gonna go back to taking care of your family.”

“They're not my family.” 

“We’re the closest thing you've got!” Seungkwan explodes again as the door shuts behind them. “More than that Devil! It's like he's got you under a trance! Like...like he's haunting you or something!” 

Jeonghan looks at the blue sky, humming as he walks. “We’ll go together, Seungkwan.” 

“Go where?” Seungkwan’s voice cracks behind him. 

“To a blue dream.” 

Jeonghan doesn't know what's real anymore. The house gets farther and farther away as they continue down the path to the main road. They go to the docks. 

Jeonghan’s old boss refuses to let him come back to work, Seungkwan pleads and pleads with him but Jeonghan just smiles at the blue sky. 

Then it all happens so fast, in a blur, disrupting Jeonghan’s peace so violently, it feels like he's back in the war. 

Someone runs up to them screaming “Jeonghan, your house is on fire!” And Jeonghan at first pays no mind in his foggy state but then he remembers who is in that house and he breaks into a sprint. Suddenly, Mingyu is there screaming, Jeonghan run! And Jeonghan puts foot in front of foot, knobby knees, heart beating in his ears because _run this could be it_ , you wouldn't live to see the next sunrise you've got a whip on your back and you better run, Wonwoo’s half bloody half dead and Jeonghan doesn't know which one is worse and _you better run faster than those legs can take you or you’ll never see-_

The flames are so tall, so high, drowning out the blue sky, the blue dream. There's only red. Angry, angry, angry red everywhere. Red like Seungcheol’s scar, like the blood that bled down his face and throat that day. Eyes vacant, hollow, haunted. 

Jeonghan’s knees go weak, a soldier’s fighting spirit wooshing out of him like a deflated balloon. He falls down, watching the flames, hearing that crackle and burn, that hot sound, hearing those screams. Burning cabinets, ghosts, kids, Seungcheol. 

Seungkwan runs past him and into the house, sirens blare in the distance. 

An hour passes or maybe a minute. When Seungkwan emerges from the flames, burnt and coughing and tripping, he is alone. 

And Jeonghan screams until his voice gives out. 

~

“Jeonghan? Jeonghan, are you in here?” It's a familiar voice, Jeonghan’s heard it before. It's stashed somewhere in his memory, deep, deep, deep, deep down somewhere in there. The way his name is said, Jeonghan’s heard it before.

“Jeongh- aw no…” 

Jeonghan looks up from his refuge in his shawl. Seungkwan’s by his side, worry peppering his burnt face like rain. He slides his hand over the shawl, crinkling his nose, baby fat still stuck to his cheeks, but he's slimmer, older. Jeonghan rocks back and forth, the bed creaks under his shifting weight, the flowers on his sill are still green and pink and pretty. They told that him everything was lost in the fire. But not those flowers, no sir. 

“Jeonghan...Appa…” Seungkwan starts, refusing to meet eyes with Jeonghan. “How did you get in here? I was looking all over town.”

“I'm tired.” 

A pause. 

“I know.”

“Where's the other two?” Jeonghan asks through gritted teeth. 

Seungkwan’s expression turns rocky. Jeonghan’s pathetic, wrapped in his little brown cocoon. He hasn't shaved in a week, still has blood on his hands, is too afraid to ask himself the questions plugging his ears. Jeonghan’s seen more than he needs to, killed more than he should've had, loved so hard, so hard, it felt more like dangling from a thread, wanting to jump but wanting to hold on, believing he was real, believing he made it out of the war, believing he hadn't been decapitated right in front of Jeonghan’s eyes. Face pretty, smile sugar, eyes sad and big and beautiful, always talking. Red, bleeding from his mouth like he was already dead when they got him six times in the forehead before slicing the final blow on his throat. 

Only, he never died. 

He kept following Jeonghan, mingled in with those ghosts. And Jeonghan let him feed off him like a parasite. Only because the bed was so empty next to him and he filled it, only because those nightmares, Lord those nightmares, could scare Jeonghan into wetting himself and only he could breathe the life back into him, only because the kids wanted him around almost as much as Jeonghan himself did, only because when he smiled he was so pretty, so pretty and sweet, like sugar, and Jeonghan could stare at him all day long. He was sky blue. Like a dream. Lovely yellow, like linen. 

He was fixing cabinets and he was fixing chairs and he was fixing windows, and everything was the way it should have been. For the first time since Seungcheol was slaughtered in front of him all those years ago, everything was the way it should have been. 

“He left me.” 

“I know, I know.” Seungkwan is pleading. 

“He left me. Disappeared into the red.” Jeonghan sees color too vividly these days. 

Seungkwan stays quiet. Tensely quiet, grinding his jaw. 

“He killed my babies.” Jeonghan whispers, voice cracking on syllables. “He took them with him.” 

“I know what the fucker did, alright?!” 

Jeonghan’s vision blurs and Seungkwan isn't Seungkwan. He's a ghost and the mud beneath Jeonghan’s knees feels moist and familiar. Enemy fire is raining down on them like actual rain and Jeonghan’s rifle is jammed. 

“Where are they?” Jeonghan gulps. 

There had been 3 people in that fire but authorities only found 2 bodies. Both children. 

Seungkwan’s looking at him broken, eyes are big and sad, doing the talking for him. “W-who?” 

“My babies. You're here but where are the other two?” 

“Buried.” Seungkwan swallows. 

“What's the headstone say?” Jeonghan hiccups. 

“Rest in peace.” 

“Am I resting?” Jeonghan asks, eyes wide. There's no peace here. Trade off.

“Some kind of rest.”

Silence and Jeonghan stares at his window sill, looking at the pretty pink flowers bloom.

He hasn't watered them in weeks but Seungcheol is hellbent on keeping them alive. 

Jeonghan’s so tired. 

“He left me, Seungkwan. He promised he'd stay and fix up the house.”

Seungkwan looks at him soft, for once looking like a child. The only child. There's a sharp pain in Jeonghan’s chest. 

“I know, Appa.” 

“He fixed it a little. Fixed the shutters and the cabinets.”

“I know, Appa.”

“The kids loved him like he was their real f-father.” Jeonghan’s voice breaks. 

“I know.”

“They were my best thing after him. You were my best thing after him. You three.” He wraps his shawl tighter. “I didn't l-love you three but I sure as h-hell was close.” 

“Aw no, don't cry Appa.” Seungkwan’s fingers are rough when they wipe Jeonghan’s cheeks. 

“I'm all al-alone, Seungkwan.” Jeonghan’s salty tears stream down his face. “He t-took my babies and left.” 

“I'm still here.” 

“You didn't leave me.” Jeonghan chuckles, snot trickling into his mouth. Not my Seungkwan. _My_ Seungkwan.”

No red fire here. No blue dreams either. 

“Thats right.” 

Seungkwan unwraps the shawl from Jeonghan’s shoulders, setting it on the empty side of the bed. His fingers are weak and teenage, trying to massage the tension out of Jeonghan, but Jeonghan’s high strung and always will be. As long as Seungcheol's ghost will stick around, Jeonghan will stay high strung. He thinks he hears kids laughing and arguing about taffy. The sound is calming to his ears but he's still high strung. Trade off. 

“We’re gonna fix up the house, okay?” Seungkwan looks him in the eyes. “Me and you.”

“Me and my baby.” Jeonghan sniffs, attempting a watery smile. 

Seungkwan exhales shakily. “That's right.” 

Jeonghan feels another set of hands on his shoulders. Stronger and thicker hands, more understanding, more familiar. They're hands that know all of his yesterday's and they’ll take him into tomorrow, faster than legs can carry. 

Jeonghan melts into the hands on his shoulders, letting them breathe life back into him. He knows who's hands they are. He’ll never forget who they belong to, but he’ll never call out his name either. 

One is not lost if no one is looking for him. Despite this, even if Jeonghan is not looking, he finds him. 

Ever since the house fire, a type of silence has cast over what had been the noisy house. It is damp. Balancing out the fire, dimming out the dream. Trade off. 

It's easy for Seungkwan to forget all of it. He conjures up stories for why the plates break, blaming his own clumsiness, explaining the broken cabinets as simply being too old to fix, blaming Jeonghan’s fatigue on him not eating enough. The pitter patter of younger footsteps, the gait of a middle schooler who listens to ragtime goes unnoticed on the surface but Jeonghan occasionally finds Seungkwan staring at the floor like he’s smiling at someone. 

But Seungkwan desperately erases _him_ from his mind like he was never there. As if he never brought peace and never wrecked havoc like the trade off he was, as if it had always been Jeonghan’s faulty memory and Seungkwan’s impatience since the start with the only ghosts being pitter patter and ragtime. 

For Jeonghan, who had spoken to him, touched him, felt him, tasted him, breathed him, fallen in love with him, it proves impossible. 

Seungkwan may forget him like a bad dream during troubling sleep but Jeonghan always catches him in the right moments - even now. The rustle of footsteps that always stops as Jeonghan walks into the room, the brush of fingers against his cheek that stills once Jeonghan finds conscious, sometimes Jeonghan looks at old pictures for too long and sees him smiling that same sugar smile. Sometimes he feels a chest against his back and lips on his neck, soft and hard the same, early in the morning when he's making coffee. But Jeonghan never goes looking, never goes looking and only finds him in the right moments by pure coincidence. 

Footprints come and go, come and go in the backyard where Jeonghan hangs clothes to dry. Footprints that are big enough that Jeonghan can fit his own shoe into them but small enough that young pitter patter can cross over them without overlapping. 

But by all trace he is gone, clouds still, just broken cabinets and the seasons turning. Sometimes Jeonghan says the name softly to himself. When he is alone and the hour is grey in the midst of the blue dream, when he is making sure those days weren't quite imagined. He whispers it very quietly, with no longing, no holding, certainly no clamor for another kiss. 

“Seungcheol.”


End file.
